“What’s a ‘fixer?’” I asked my husband as we sat sweating together under the relentless sun with the hundreds of other unfortunate souls renewing their driver’s licenses. Bored to tears from the hours of waiting and miserable from the heat, I had taken to scrutinizing every detail of my surroundings. (This was pre- smart phone or tablet days, and the sun was too glaring to be able to read the paperback I’d brought along.) A handwritten notice was pinned to the wall in front of me stating, “Beware fixers.” My husband explained that fixers are people who are paid to take your place in situations just such as this, and who go through the tedious lines and hoops for you while you stay at home or work in air-conditioned comfort. Sounded like a great idea!

“They’re illegal,” Steve said, bursting my rising bubble of hope.

I still wondered why we…